


Bella, Ciao

by Irrealia



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Guilty Pleasures, Light Bondage, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrealia/pseuds/Irrealia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He's glad he's a fast learner, because he needs to do a good impression of someone who knows her</i>. A ficlet that goes somewhere between <i>Journey's End</i> and <i>The Next Doctor</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella, Ciao

**Author's Note:**

> After 6x1, it seems very likely that Ten would have been the one to take River on that lovely last date she describes in _Forest of the Dead_. Spoilers only through _Journey's End_.
> 
> The title is in reference to [this song](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bella_ciao). Seemed fitting, for them.
> 
> Remember, "ciao" is European for "aloha."

The first time he sees her is when she walks into the Library, and she dies.

The second time he sees her is after the Crucible. After so many goodbyes, he wants to find out if she'll greet him just as she had in the Library, with a knowing “Hello, sweetie.” The TARDIS wardrobe gives him a suit to replace the blue one; it's a charcoal that suits his mood, with lilac pinstripes. He tamps his hair down, cleans himself up, and makes himself see her straight off, because if he waits too long, he might forget to give her the upgraded screwdriver and all his senses screamed, when he met her, that here was a timeline not to be tampered with.

He's not sure if it's a greeting or a farewell, so he answers River with a cocky “Ciao, bella,” sends her off to put on something less comfortable, and takes her out for the time of her life. Well, he hopes it's the time of her life. He doesn't really know her, but she gave him the rough outline in the library before she died, and he extrapolates from there to things that he knows would have made Donna speechless, or Martha confused, or Rose giddy, and the joy on her face is transparent, and beautiful, and fragile, like all lovely things.

He's glad he's a fast learner, because he needs to do a good impression of someone who knows her, who would know all the secret spots on her body, who would have memorised the precise number of flicks her clit prefers, and how hard, and how fast, and whether she likes tongue or fingers better. He's gladder still when she whips out the handcuffs and takes charge gently, demanding only that he submit himself to sensation and her whims (all of which are pleasant). She's an avid fuck, and she tastes delicious everywhere she insists he put his overeager tongue to use. Skin, salt, electrolytes, cunt, direct and perfect. She rides him, in the end, digging her clipped fingernails into his shoulders as she leans forward on them to balance, coming hard and screaming and the feeling of her pulsing around him dragging him over the edge just after her.

He's gladdest of all when she apologises, after, because then he knows it was awkward for her too. “Still haven't figured out exactly how you work in this body,” she laughs. “Still, we've got time.”

“Wellll...” he says half-playfully and half in earnest, and she silences him before his usual bluster starts with, “Don't get any marks on that pretty face of yours before I get to see it again.”

She isn't at all surprised or disappointed when he brings her home, about five minutes after they left, and shows her out of the TARDIS with a gentle “Shalom.” She loves him fast and hard but for himself and without expectation, and that's exactly his speed.


End file.
